


fold your hands child, you walk like a peasant

by valleyofthewind



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, T for swearing, buy one get one free!, fluff and loads of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valleyofthewind/pseuds/valleyofthewind
Summary: Kwon Soonyoung sucks at French.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by a swedish book called Hjärtans Fröjd so s/o to my guy Per Nilsson for giving me this idea and sorry in advance

Here is a boy, sitting in front of his desk. There a few things lying in front of him. A pencil, a  _Learn French 2a_  textbook, a cinema ticket, a comb, a CD, a broken mirror, a telephone.

Here is a boy, in his apartment on the second floor. He's alone in his shared flat. The lights are on. It's a Friday night. He slides a glance to the clock hanging on his wall for a brief second. Eight-thirty P.M. He nods, to no one in particular.  _Perfect._

Here is a boy, who once loved.

 

_Kwon Soonyoung sucks at French._

“ _Oh my God, why do I fucking suck at French?” he groans, rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes to see if he'll be any smarter after going temporarily blind for a few seconds. He sees stars, then his not-even-remotely-close-to-finished essay in front of him again. “Why didn't I drop it after high school?”_

“ _Suck is an understatement,” says Seungkwan next to him. “You also spit and swallow at the same time.”_

_Soonyoung grimaces. “You're disgusting.” He swats his best-friend half-heartedly._

_Seungkwan waves him away. “I needed to speak in terms you'd comprehend.”_

“ _Whatever,” Soonyoung says. “Just shut up and keep working.”_

“ _Bit rich,” Seungkwan mutters, sipping his cappuccino. “I mean, coming from you.”_

“ _At least I've actually started doing something.”_

“ _At least I can remotely understand what I'm studying.”_

_The library is mostly empty at this time of night, apart from the handful of university students desperately trying to cram facts or smashing their heads over their keyboards for not finding a good way to formulate a sentence. Soonyoung being the latter. Seungkwan not really doing anything apart from sitting there, drinking coffee, pretending to study ergonomics._

_Seungkwan looks at him again and says, “Listen, if you're really struggling, just get help? A tutor? There has to be someone who can save your miserable ass. It's not that difficult.”_

_Soonyoung faux-concentrates. “Maybe I can think of someone.”_

“ _Liar.”_

_And Soonyoung knows which card he's about to pull._

“ _What about Lee Seokmin?” Seungkwan turns to grin widely at him, teasing._

“ _Shut the fuck up,” Soonyoung says. He can't be bothered having this argument today._

 _Seungkwan lowers his voice. “Your team's 'rivalry' is_ still _raining on your gay parade over that dude?”_

_Soonyoung blatantly ignores him. “I'll just ask Jeonghan.”_

“ _Yoo Jeonghan? The_ chemistry _major?”_

“ _He lived in Europe for a few years?”_

“ _Where did you get that from? And Europe is a whole continent, not just one country. Are you thick?”_

“ _Nevermind, I was thinking of Hong Jisoo.”_

“ _Jisoo lived in the US,” Seungkwan says, exasperated. “How come I know your own team better than you do?”_

“ _Close enough.”_

_Seungkwan looks at him. “Okay, just because England colonised like, the entire world doesn't mean– Whatever. You're just trying to change the subject.”_

_Soonyoung doesn't reply to that._

“ _Just get your head out of your ass and see that the world is more than just a sport–”_

“ _But it's not 'just a sport', and I think my seniors would seriously kill me if I even considered hanging out with a Tiger. Seungkwan, this is what my scholarship depends on.”_

“ _It's not that deep,” Seungkwan says. Soonyoung starts to argue before Seungkwan puts a finger against his lip and shushes him,“Besides, you need to keep your grades up as well. Which is just as important as keeping a good bond with your teammates. Seriously, somewhere inside of your one-track mind you know Seokmin is perfect for it–_ ”

“ _I'd be perfect for what?”_

_Soonyoung whips his head around at the sound of that sonorous voice. And there's no fucking way his luck has run out this far. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. And leaves it open._

_Lee Seokmin shows off his scintillating smile. “Hi.”_

“ _Uh,” says Soonyoung._

_How much of the conversation did he hear? What the hell? What the fuck? Helly-fuck?_

_Seokmin grins even harder at that, his cheeks physically stretching out to make place for it. His hair is slightly damp, probably from a shower after extra practice, or maybe it's raining outside, and he's wearing his uni's hoodie and tracksuit bottoms and no one's really actually meant to look good in an outfit like that; his cheeks sporting a dusty pink colour and Soonyoung swears his eyes are like, glimmering or some poetic shit–_

“ _Stare much?”_

_He's just teasing, but Soonyoung feels his cheeks upping a notch in the warmth factor. “Why are you here?” he manages at long last._

_Seokmin furrows his eyebrows. “I'm going to study?”_

“ _It's almost midnight.”_

“ _You're also studying.”_

_Soonyoung reluctantly switches his gaze from Seokmin (standing in front of him!) to his laptop. “Uh, yeah,” he says, intellectually._

_Seungkwan looks between them. “It's funny, Seokmin, we were just talking about how Soonyoung really needs help with his French, and how you would be the perfect tutor for him.” Soonyoung kicks his shin under the table. He can_ not  _do this right now. Or ever. “Didn't you live in Paris for a year?”_

_Seungkwan flutters his eyelashes a little. Seokmin looks confused, searching Soonyoung's face a moment and successfully making his blush deepen another fraction. And smiles._

_Guy's cheeks must hurt, Soonyoung thinks to himself._

“ _Oh, yeah? And that's okay for your team?”_

_Soonyoung swears he feels blood in his mouth. “My team? Who cares about my team?”_

“ _Yeah,” Seungkwan says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Who cares about his team?”_

_Seokmin tugs his hoodie strings. “Are Thursdays okay?”_

 

_Soonyoung can't focus on French grammar when Seokmin's lips are approximately 30 centimetres away from his face, not really. He doesn't think he'd be able to concentrate on anything. Even if the fire alarm went off he'd be starting at Seokmin's face; maybe his cheekbones or eyebrows that seem to thicken the further they go up his face, or perhaps at his–_

“ _Do you get it now?” Seokmin asks._

“ _Hmm?”_

“ _The verb forms.” Soonyoung's blank look must've encouraged him to continue because he does, “The thing you asked me to explain? Hello?”_

_Soonyoung had been listening, maybe. In a parallel universe. “Sure.”_

_Seokmin laughs. And Soonyoung does too. He's not sure why. “Were you even paying attention at all?”_

“ _No, I was too busy thinking about kissing you until you forget every language you've ever spoken,” Soonyoung says. In his head. Out loud he stupidly repeats himself, “Sure.”_

_Seokmin hits his forehead lightly with a pencil and repeats what he was explaining before. Soonyoung listens this time, but if you asked him later what Seokmin had said he wouldn't be able a retell a single sentence of it._

 

The boy picks up the pencil next to the book. He takes in between his two hands and breaks into in half. He considers throwing it to the ground for effect, but he's trying to make as little noise and create as little attention as possible. He settles for pulling out the paper bin next to the foot of the desk and throwing the two pieces into it, watching them fall and fall and fall until they hit the bottom and the empty bag of crisps there crumples a bit and he feels satisfied with the result.

The telephone, though, is standing completely silently at the end of the desk.

 

 _Soonyoung's 'crush' on Lee Seokmin wouldn't really mean anything if 1) Seokmin didn't play for the rival uni's rival football team, and basically the first thing freshman Soonyoung had learnt was that you don't make friends with a Tiger (his senior and their team captain, Seungcheol, who would never hurt a fly had_ spat _out the word), and 2) if they didn't live in a cold heteronormative world where the public finding out a top university football player was gay could be the end of his university life and future career options to do with the sport like, ever. At least that's what his coach has bolted into his head for over two years now, after the rumours about Soonyoung's sexuality had sparked on campus._

 _And Soonyoung has tried to explain this to Seungkwan at least 50 times, but Seungkwan's the type of person who excessively watches American rom-coms and thinks first kisses belong under umbrellas and not in packed frat parties. And there's really no way to get through to a hopeless romantic when the topic is_ romance _._

“ _I'm going to get slaughtered,” Soonyoung says in lieu of a greeting as he walks into their shared apartment. He dumps his bag on the floor next to his shoes._

_Seungkwan looks up, bored expression resting on his face, from the sofa. “Who wants to kill you this time around?”_

“ _Not funny,” Soonyoung sighs, raking his hand through his mop of sweaty, black hair. “Fuck.” What's he going to do with all his emotions? He reckons they'll eat him alive._

_Almost as if Seungkwan can read his thoughts, he sits up straighter and says, “You said it yourself. Who cares about your team?”_

“ _I do!” Soonyoung moans, and from his hand in his hair he drags it slowly down his face. His own brain is asphyxiating him in fresh air. “I care about my team. Ugh, I do. Care about my team. And my reputation. I do, Seungkwan.”_

“ _Well you didn't seem to care much when you were panting over just_ seeing _Lee Seokmin.”_

_Soonyoung knows he's right. “I'm going for a nap. Being in the same room as you is giving me a headache.”_

“ _Keep running,” Seungkwan calls to his retreating steps into his room. “You'll trip eventually.”_

 

“ _Do you want to study over at my place next time?” Seokmin asks, without realising he made the entire world explode with just those words._

_Soonyoung racks his brain for coherent sentences and excuses. “I mean, I'm not sure– I don't know if it's great if I'm seen at TGU's dorms, and this is, y'know, my apartment with Seungkwan, so only he knows about this thing I mean, not a 'thing', really, and if your team knew, or– you know–”_

“ _Kwon Soonyoung, breathe,” Seokmin laughs. “I'm asking you to my house. It's not a marriage proposal. And I have my own apartment. It's not the nicest, but it works.”_

_Soonyoung lets the information enter and exit his mind. “How do you know my full name?”_

_Seokmin shoots him a perplexed look. “Huh?”_

“ _You said Kwon Soonyoung. How d'you know?”_

“ _I don't know.” Seokmin laughs, dulcetly. “Maybe because you're–” He pauses for a second, as if trying to find the right words, “–you're like, famous in TGU.”_

“ _What? Why?” His brain fries trying to think properly._

“ _Ever since people started to think you're gay.”_

_He says it so plainly, so easily, so flippantly. As if it will ever be as simple as that._

“ _Oh.”_

_Seokmin babbles on, “I– It's just dumb rumours, but you're worshipped now even though you should technically be hated on, I guess.” His eyes widen at his own words and he snaps his gaze up from his hands to meet Soonyoung's stare. “Not because you're gay! Or not gay. Obviously. Or anything. I meant you should be hated because you're a Sparrow. Not that I hate you because of that, or– Whatever, I'm rambling. Forget it.”_

_Soonyoung is quiet as he studies Seokmin's facial expression. “I get it.”_

_A few seconds, minutes, years, decades pass. And then, as if nothing had ever happened, Seokmin picks up the French textbook and asks him to translate a text to English. Soonyoung breathes out a breath he didn't realise he was holding._

 

Next, he picks up the  _Learn French 2a._ It's slightly heavy and dog-eared, and when he opens it he sees all the small doodles and things he's mindlessly drawn and the things he's written religiously over and over again between the long rows of texts and explanations and examples and he tries to ignore his heart thumping into the quiet of the room. Without thinking, he rips out a page. And another, and another, and another. Until all 227 pages are lying in streamers on the desk.

He contemplates his options. He could start a bonfire or throw them out of the window like confetti.

He decides the latter. How dramatic. A certain person would've loved this, he thinks, as he watches the pieces of paper fly out into the darkness. So much for creating as little attention as possible. He sighs, watches the last ripped-out page hit the ground and walks back to the desk after closing the window shut with a crash.

 

_It's not a date._

_It's not a date._

_It's not a date._

_It's not a–_

“ _Hi,” Seokmin, his French tutor (only), says, smiling, shaking Soonyoung out of his thoughts and his repeating of the mantra in his head. Today he's wearing his usual beanie snug against his head, next to a juxtaposition of a baby pink and blue jumper, his thick coat and gloves and fake Timberlands. He seems to notice Soonyoung staring at his attire and he glows a little brighter. “It's cold.”_

_It's not a date. Don't get your hopes up._

_(No one should see you together.)_

“ _It won't be cold by the end of this century when the global temperature has risen by a few degrees and the sea level with half a metre resulting in extinction of loads of different animal species and also cities and islands underwater and the coral reef dead,” Soonyoung says flatly. “Let's go buy popcorn.”_

“ _You're possibly the weirdest person I've ever known,” Seokmin says, gazing at him, eyes crinkled. “And I prefer Hot Snacks.”_

“ _You're weird,” Soonyoung mumbles. “Salted cinema popcorn is our disgraceful mankind's greatest creation.”_

_Seokmin chuckles. Soonyoung repeats the mantra again, ignoring his heart ready to leap out of his throat and defenestrate itself. “From the greenhouse effect to that?”_

_Soonyoung isn't blushing and this isn't a date. “Which film did you even get tickets for?”_

“ _La La Land.”_

“ _You're joking.”_

“ _No? It got like, 20 Grammys and Oscars, or something.”_

“ _This is something Seungkwan would force me to see. I thought I could put my trust in you, Lee Seokmin. Foolishly.” He likes this. He likes teasing Seokmin and he likes the way his full name rolls of his tongue almost melodically._

“ _Whatever,” Seokmin says, but he doesn't look annoyed. “Anyways, even if the movie sucks it'll be worth it for Ryan Gosling.”_

_Soonyoung doesn't say anything at first. Just notes inwardly how Seokmin specifically said Ryan Gosling and not Emma Stone and adds it to his Very Important Mental Notes list stored away in some box in some part in his brain. “If he's in this film it's bound to be a The Notebook 2.0.”_

“ _What's the wrong with The Notebook?” Seokmin demands, and sees Soonyoung's expression. “Now I'm fully convinced you're not human,” he states. “Everyone loves The Notebook.”_

“ _Overrated,” Soonyoung says, and before Seokmin can argue the group of teenagers in front of them have finished their buys and they're now are at the front of the queue. Soonyoung buys a medium popcorn without a drink (“What? Then I'll just need to go to the toilet the last hour. I never buy a drink.” “I thought you didn't care for this film.” “It's_ impractical  _to have to–” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just don't come crying to me when you're thirsty after a handful of popcorn.”) and Seokmin a Hot Snacks with Sprite._

_They continue bickering and discussing and talking and smiling and Soonyoung not-blushing all the way throughout the adverts and only shut up when the lights dim down and the opening credits start. Soonyoung tries to be silent when chewing and wills his pulse to stop pulsing so hard it must be cacophonous; louder than the film's musical numbers. At one point Seokmin leans in close and Soonyoung thinks he goes into cardiac arrest because his entire body tingles and his lungs stop working when he whispers, “Told you so.” and Soonyoung realises it's because Ryan Gosling's face is on the huge screen and the place Seokmin had his lips close to is burning red and he's thankful for the minimum lighting there and he also thinks he is engulfed in flames right now and it's not a date not a date not a date not a date._

_He forces himself to calm down and during the last hour he's so engrossed in Mia and Sebastian that the worried thoughts of him and Seokmin possibly being seen in public together niggling at the back of his brain almost disappear completely. His brain consists only of a City of Stars and Seokmin sitting pressed up to his side, sipping his drink and wiping away his streams of tears under his 3D glasses at the last scene._

“ _So what did you think?” he asks later on when they're walking down the pavement to the tube station after he had to collect himself in the public bathroom for half an hour. The tube together could be risky, but Soonyoung is still floating high in the clouds and wouldn't even have noticed if Seungcheol walked right up to them and ranted at him for putting his future career and their team's reputation in danger._

“ _It was okay,” Soonyoung says._

_(He secretly loves it and softly cries over the end, too, in the comfort of his apartment where Seokmin won't be able ask about his smudged eyeliner and puffy eyes. Straight away he also buys the full soundtrack on iTunes and pretends he and Seokmin could visit Griffith Observatory at night and dance up above the stars and galaxies and all the way the new seven planets NASA discovered, light years away from Tigers and Sparrows and judging looks and homophobic comments._

_Seungkwan walks in with a chai latte right when Soonyoung is reenacting the Audition scene at the top of his lungs. “Whipped,” he says, then turns around and walks out again.)_

 

When he stares at the cinema ticket he almost feels sad.

It's a stupid thing; regret.

It's a stupid thing, yet it has the ability to rip your life apart.

The boy who once loved and now regrets picks the ticket up. Holds it lightly between his thumb and index finger. Folds it by the middle a few times. Tears it from the top down, the slit uneven still. Maybe he should've brought scissors.

 

_On the next non-date, Soonyoung makes an effort with his appearance; wrestling his hair with a comb and washing his face with Neutrogena's pink grapefruit facial cleanser. Brushes his teeth for four minutes instead of two._

_Seokmin stares at him. “Your hair.”_

_Soonyoung regrets making an effort as he realises Seokmin actually notices a difference. Weird, right? “Yeah?”_

_He's silent, picking at his fingernails. Then, “Looks nice.” His cheeks are sort of glowing._

“ _Uh, thanks,” Soonyoung says, awkwardly._

_They stand there. “Let's go.” Seokmin smiles and rises the global temperature with a few degrees._

_Fuck him and fuck air pollution._

 

He picks up the comb. It's one of the white plastic types you get free in hotels or long aeroplane flights. And he throws it in the bin as well.

He thinks: It wasn't really worth much. It was made for a short life.

And the thought makes him wonder about different values people put on different things. He snaps himself out of it before starting to question the world and humans and existence and how people are sure they're a thousand times more important than bees or mosquitos or ladybirds which isn't even necessarily truthful.

He hovers his hand over the CD.

But what about the telephone? It's on his desk. Quiet.

 

“ _I love this album.”_

“ _Okay.”_

“ _Okay? That's all?”_

“ _What else is there to say?”_

“ _Well, I guess you could tell me your own opinion.”_

“ _I don't really have an opinion on it yet.”_

“ _Kwon Soonyoung? Without an opinion? This is breaking news.”_

“ _Shut up.”_

_He laughs. “I'll think about it.”_

_They're lying on Seokmin's apartment's sofa, drinking green tea (real green tea, not the type in teabags). The room is kind of small, with ecru walls covered in various pictures and post-it notes and one window revealing a lovely view of a carpark. There's clothes thrown about every inch of it and polaroids in frames and flowers in empty deodorant containers. A faint scent of Chinese takeaway from the restaurant a floor down rests in the air and there's a unknown stain on the sofa next to his thigh and the place radiates of Seokmin. It's so_ him _– the location and decorations and his fucking_ tea _(which student living on their own even buys the non-bagged tea?) and CD-player and a crowded bookshelf where a TV would usually stand in someone's living room._

_Soonyoung examines Seokmin's face. The bit of sunlight streaming in from the window is hitting his cheek, showing off his long eyelashes and Soonyoung wants to kiss him and he thinks he might really explode this time around and he's scared of his own mind for wanting it so much. Seokmin places his mug down and rests his head in his hand. They're both silent now, the only sounds being the ones coming from outside the window, far away from their own world, and Belle and Sebastian playing gently in the background. He turns his legs and body to meet Soonyoung's gaze._

“ _Hi,” he says. His earring sways as he tilts his entire head up so it's straight again._

_Soonyoung swallows. “Yeah.” He's not sure that's the right answer, but if he even tried to say something remotely intelligent he would end up rambling and ruin the moment again._

“ _Man of many words,” Seokmin says._

_Soonyoung can't breathe properly. “Fuck it,” he whispers, tucks his legs underneath him and crawls over the tiny space to close the distance between him and Seokmin. He presses his lips against Seokmin's and Seungkwan was right because currently he doesn't give a flying fuck about his team and any consequences or anything else in the universe that could be stopping this from happening._

_Seokmin is shocked for a split second, then kisses him back as if the world's ending tomorrow, grabbing Soonyoung's collar and then his hair and encouraging him, making Soonyoung go temporarily blind. It sounds like he mumbles something like 'finally' against Soonyoung's lips and he presses Seokmin back against the armrest and holds himself over, planting kisses down his neck and collarbones and chin before going up and lazily sliding their lips together again. It's amazing how easily they fit together, like two puzzle pieces._

_Like two floods coalescing to one waterfall._

_The thought gives him goosebumps on every inch of his body._

_They continue like this for a lifetime before pulling away to breathe. Seokmin's lips are red and his eyes are glimmering and his hair is disheveled from Soonyoung repeatedly raking his hands through it. He imprints the way the boy underneath looks. He tattoos the image onto his eyelids._

_Seokmin sends him a happy, saccharine smile. A pure one. A genuine one. Something so authentic that Soonyoung could spend his entire life wondering how and why he'd ever be worthy of it._

“ _Took you long enough,” Seokmin says, and Soonyoung takes in his rose gold cheeks. Takes in the sight again and again. Takes in Seokmin; breathes him in and out. Takes in the fact that first kisses can belong on a cramped sofa with unidentifiable stains and they don't need to be shared under the pouring rain or in a planetarium in Los Angeles to be magical._

“ _Hi,” Soonyoung manages back. They don't say anything for a bit._

_'There's Too Much Love' comes on._

_Seokmin's face lights up even more, looking over at the CD spinning in infinite circles. “I love this song.”_

“ _Me too.”_

_Seokmin directs his attention back to him. “Hey, wanna dance?”_

“ _Dance?”_

“ _Why not? This song is so dance-able.”_

“ _I can't dance.”_

“ _Me neither!” Seokmin untangles their legs and stands up, pulling him up to his feet. Even the tiny touch of their linked hands sends electric shocks down his spine. Call him crazy._

“ _This is stupid.” Yet he's laughing._

“ _You haven't told me you like me back for like, three months. Don't call_ me _stupid.”_

_Now Soonyoung's apparently crazy and happy and stupid and also dizzy. “I– I mean, I didn't know you like me.”_

“ _Okay, you're not stupid.” Seokmin playfully pinches his waist from both sides. “Just oblivious as fuck.”_

“ _How– What? How long have you liked me?”_

_Seokmin sways his body to the music a little. Even though he moved the sunlight is still reflecting against him and Soonyoung thinks maybe he's ethereal (and, what the actual hell-y fuck, since when did he even have thoughts like that?)._

“ _I don't know,” Seokmin says, shrugging. “I mean, I haven't been counting.”_

“ _Since before or after?”_

“ _Huh?”_

“ _Before or after you started tutoring me?”_

“ _Before, I don't know?” He scratches his head. “Seriously, everyone at TGU has a crush on you. I've already said that.”_

“ _I am seriously fucking dumb, then,” Soonyoung says, and he can't believe himself. He smiles at his own idiocy and the this-date-is-not-a-date-mantra and his blushes and stomach churning and Seungkwan at the library pestering him about getting help from Lee Seokmin.“You're telling me I could've been kissing you like this for over two years?”_

_Seokmin laughs. “If you put it in those words, yes.”_

_Soonyoung can't help but grin at the situation. He's been so scared of people noticing the two of them and himself, he hasn't noticed what's right in front of him._ Right _in front of him._

“ _There's something I like to see.” Seokmin brushes his fingertips down Soonyoung's hair, squeezing his cheek slightly._

“ _There's only one thing we can do.” Soonyoung leans his head up and cups Seokmin's cheeks. “We'll have to make up for the two years of non-making-out right now.”_

“ _Two years worth?” Seokmin chuckles, but continues to place one hand on the small of Soonyoung's back and the other on his hip and pulls him closer so there's not a centimetre of space to spare and he puts his mouth on Soonyoung's, sucking on his bottom lip slightly. He pulls away, laughing. “How about we start with just these past months you've turned red every time I've even looked at you?”_

“ _Shut up,” Soonyoung says, not smiling and not blushing._

“ _Gladly.” And he closes his eyes again._

“ _I can't hide my feelings from you now, there's too much love to go around these days,” the vocalist on the CD-player sings and the two mugs of green tea turn more from lukewarm to cold by every second passing._

_Maybe that man is right._

_Maybe there is too much damn love._

 

It would almost be a waste to break the CD. It's a good album. He could maybe sell it. Or give it away. Yeah, that's a good idea. He checks the clock briefly and sees he has plenty of time left.

He leaves his chair and pads out of his room and out of the apartment onto the landing by the staircase leading to the main doors. He walks to the door a few ones down hastily, stops outside the one he thinks an old lady lives in, and drops the CD through the mail slot before turning on his heel and jogging back. Maybe she needs some company on a Friday night. Maybe she's all alone. (He's never thought about her before this moment. Maybe that's a little sad.)

The boy slips back into the flat and his own bedroom, scanning the items left.

The telephone remains silent.

 

“ _Surprise,” Seokmin grins, standing in front of Soonyoung at 7.24 a.m., two take-away cups in his hands._

“ _Fuck off,” Soonyoung answers, not unkindly. “What time is it? Not even the dog-walkers or construction works are awake yet.” He rubs his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep from them, whilst trying to flatten down his tousled pyjama top. “What the hell, dude?”_

“ _Good morning to you, too,” Seokmin says cheerfully. “You look kinda tired. Hope you like black coffee. I didn't know what to get.”_

_Soonyoung tries to glare at him through bleary eyes. “No one likes black coffee. You come over here, barge into my house at Satan's hour, with Satan's very own drink? Who even are you?”_

_Seokmin touches his face lightly, and leans in to comfortably fit their lips together in a messy kiss, still smirking. He tastes like coffee from the 7eleven down the road and buttered toast. Soonyoung closes his eyes and leans further into Seokmin, letting his body warm up from his simple touches, fingernails dragging down the side of his tracksuit bottoms, and Seokmin lets him tug his hair ever so slightly. They pull away, and when Soonyoung breathes out he can see his own breath in form of an opaque cloud in the air._

“ _I actually got you a_ _caffè latte_ _,” Seokmin whispers. “Promise.”_

“ _Sweet,” Soonyoung replies, sleepily resting his head against Seokmin's shoulder._

“ _Hi, baby,” Seokmin murmurs, slipping his free hand into Soonyoung's and intertwining their fingers. Which leads him to having to balance both the takeaway mugs in his other hand. “You haven't even brushed your teeth yet. Gross.”_

“ _I just woke up, asshole.” Soonyoung leans back and stands up straighter to kiss his jaw once. “Are you done criticising me or are you going to come in?”_

“ _Well, although the continuance of criticising does sound appealing, I think my toes are freezing off.”_

 _Soonyoung pulls him inside and shuts the door behind him. Seokmin takes his shoes off, and then walks down to the kitchen-and-living-room-area to dump the coffee on the counter. Soonyoung can't breathe when he sees him, like this, still. Raw, unfiltered, so_ him _._

“ _I already ate,” he explains. “But I can make something for you if you haven't.”_

“ _I'm perfectly capable of pouring milk and cereal, thank you very much. Why are you here?”_

_Seokmin looks up. “Your only 9 a.m. class is on Tuesdays, right?” He pulls a face. “At least, that's what I thought you said sometime.”_

" _Yeah,” Soonyoung says, and his heart leaps at the thought of him remembering small, unnecessary things he probably just mentioned once or twice. “You're right. It's also my worst decision ever.”_

_Seokmin laughs. “Morning classes are seriously Satan's most satanic invention. You're an athlete student, and so am I, but I don't even get how you even manage that shit?”_

“ _I don't.” Soonyoung shrugs. “I nearly chose seven classes my first year, before Jeonghan told me I'd die even_ before _midterms.”_

_It's such a domestic scene, his brain uselessly supplies. Talking about uni without worrying about spectators or teams and eating stale cornflakes out of mugs and drinking hot beverages with steamed milk. And he loves it. He realises he must be spacing out just as Seokmin see-saws his hand in front of his face._

“ _I can– I can leave if I'm, you know–” he starts._

“ _No, no, no,” Soonyoung looks up at him quickly. “No. It's okay. Don't leave. I was just thinking.”_

_And Seokmin's usual smile returns. Soonyoung feels his own lips twitch at the corner._

“ _I love your smile,” Seokmin says._

_Soonyoung's grin stretches even wider, unknowingly. Unstoppable forces causing his entire physical structure to feel slightly warmer, happiness spreading deep in his stomach. “Okay.” He wants to say how Seokmin's smile is like the 8 th world wonder to him, and how he loves the way his eyes crinkle by the sides and sparkle and how his nose scrunches and eyelashes flicker. He wants to say how his smile was what captured him and entranced him in the first place, how he'd never ever seen a person radiate sunlight and pure euphoria with only a basic expression like he did._

_Yet his tongue is slightly burned from the coffee, and even though he never has the right words at the right time and he doesn't hold enough beauty in his heart to utter them out loud; he slides a glance to Seokmin who has now stood up and is convinced he can spice their breakfast up by making 'the best french toast Soonyoung has ever tasted', and he thinks maybe he doesn't really need to say anything at all._

 

_Seungcheol pulls him to the side after practice that very same Tuesday._

“ _Kwon,” he says. His face is concerned. “I need you to be serious for a few minutes. Can you be serious, please? I need to hear your own version of this. Please.”_

“ _What's this about?” Soonyoung frowns. “I don't get it.”_

_Seungcheol doesn't meet his eyes. “It's about–” he inhales, “–the thing about. The thing about Lee Seokmin. Of TGU.”_

_And Soonyoung thinks about how his heart stops pumping blood and every bone is his body turns to ash. His vital organs give up on him, but not actually. All that really happens is that he widens his eyes for a few seconds and then lowers his gaze to his lap, cheeks scorching. “What about him?”_

_Seungcheol, the very same person who spat whilst talking about TGU when Soonyoung was a freshman and still does every time someone mentions a Tiger, now looks up again and studies him very carefully. As if he's a porcelain vase. As if he might break. “Calm down, Kwon. Breathe. I'm not going to yell at you. I just– I just want to know if you're okay. I need to know if you're okay. Your mental health could distract you from school or the team and– Well, we– we can't afford one of our star players going into the wall not even halfway into the term...”_

_He's very lost and very dazed.“What?”_

“ _...and of course, it's more than that,” Seungcheol goes on, “we're all feeling anxious and saddened over this... Even though I haven't been the most supportive just know I would never and never will tolerate these kind of comments, especially about a fellow team member and friend.”_

“ _You're seriously confusing me, Choi,” Soonyoung says. He prompts to think about Seokmin just this morning instead; about kissing him and feeling his smile against his mouth. “Just shout at me instead and I'd feel less uncomfortable.”_

_His captain raises a single eyebrow. “Have you seen...” He pauses._

“What _?” Soonyoung demands. “What_ is _it?”_

“ _Have you seen– Well, any news, or rumours, or has anyone said anything to you in the past few hours? What about social medias?”_

_Soonyoung only uses Snapchat and iMessage to talk to people. He has a Twitter account he uses once a blue moon and he's only ever on Instagram when he takes a nice picture of food or Seungkwan forces him to post things. “No,” he says. “I've been too busy today. Recently?” He thinks back, and realises he's been too hurried to even notice people's looks at him, some pitying and some disgusted, the conversations that have sparked when he's walked past them on campus. He suddenly feels really, really, really small, and he desperately wants someone, his mother, next to him. (Is that sad? How we only properly think of people when we need them?)_

_Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair. “Ah, fuck. Fuck, Kw– Soonyoung– I'm so sorry.”_

“ _Captain?” His voice is barely above a whisper._

“ _There's pictures,” he says, eventually. “Pictures. Of you two. And a video, and it's not very long, but...” He trails off._

_The entire Solar System explodes._

“ _Oh,” Soonyoung says, hoping his voice won't crack, “of me and– and Seokmin?”_

“ _Yes,” Seungcheol says. “From this morning. The things people are saying and writing... To hell with them, Soonyoung. I'm fuckin' pissed off and you should know all of us are as well.”_

_Soonyoung's gut swirling with worry is replaced by anger; acrimony, animosity, annoyance, antagonism, enmity, exasperation, fury, hatred, indignation, ire, irritation, outrage, rage, resentment filling into his veins, poisoning him. He can't think properly, not on Seungcheol talking or the trees rocking in the breeze outside, only focusing on how he's being strangled in this room and in his own mind. “I have to go.” He stands up. “Now.” His blood feels unevenly proportioned and he doesn't fit in his own shoes or skin. Shrinking._

_Seokmin. What have people said about him? What have they done to him? Seokmin, Seokmin, Seokmin. Where is he?_ _Where is he? Where is he?_

_When he leaves the building, Seungkwan is standing on the pavement outside. Soonyoung has never seen him look this mournful before. “Soonyoung,” he says, eyes filling with tears. He wraps his arms around Soonyoung's shoulders, holding him tight. Soonyoung lets him._

“ _Where is he?” he croaks out._

_Seungkwan sighs. “Let's go.”_

_Soonyoung wants to sink into the ground as he's suddenly aware of people's eyes trained on them as they walk. Fists still clenched at his side, he lowers his head even more._

 

_Lee Seokmin runs to the front door when Seungkwan pushes it ajar._

“ _Thank God.” He steps forward. Soonyoung does, too._

“ _Are you okay?” Soonyoung asks, reaching up to brush away tears slick and fresh against his cheeks._

 _Seokmin laughs bitterly. “Soonyoung, are_ you _okay?”_

“ _I'm not sure yet. I don't think I am.”_

“ _That's okay.”_

“ _I'm angry.”_

“ _Me too.”_

“ _I'm still kinda confused."_

“ _About what?”_

“ _About whatever happened. I feel so... small."_

“ _Small?”_

“ _Like, helpless. I don't know."_

“ _That's okay.”_

_Soonyoung looks up._

“ _C'mere.”_

_He lets Seokmin envelop him in his arms. “It's okay, baby, it's okay, you're okay,” he mumbles into Soonyoung's ears, over and over and over._

_Are we okay? The words stick in his mouth. Die on his tongue._

“ _I don't know what to do,” Soonyoung admits, his voice muffled into the crook of Seokmin's neck. “What do we do?”_

“ _I– I don't know either. But I know that I'm not going to go down quiet. I won't let them win, Soonyoung. I'll talk to people– I'll talk to people who can help fix this. I'll put up a fight.”_

“ _Okay,” Soonyoung says._

“ _I'll see if there's anything we can do to get rid of the things online, right? It'll be a pain the arse. Fuck. I can't believe this. I can't believe this is really real. In this day in this year in our time. I can't believe it.”_

“ _Seokmin. What kind of things did they write? I haven't seen it.”_

“ _Bullshit, Soonyoung, lies,” he says. “Awful shit and statements about you–_ Shit _about us–”_

“ _Did they write about you?”_

“ _Yeah. Yeah, they did.”_

“ _Shit.”_

“ _They called me–” he closes his eyes, “–things at school today. The people who adore you are against me, and the people who dislike you have another reason to hate on you and your team. My friends and team are trying to stick up for me, but it's chaos. Not to mention all the things being spread online; pictures of us from this morning and old rumours dragged up again and horrible shit directed to us and our teammates and assumptions. It's pure intrusion of privacy. I've already spoken to the school board and they've also tried contacting the police. Of course, there's people who try and fight them back, but there's not point. It's chaos there. On the internet, I mean.”_

_Soonyoung isn't going to cry. “Shit,” he stupidly says again. He caused this. He caused this to them because he let his guard down._

“ _Yeah.”_

“ _My scholarship depends on football. My team, my family, my_ future _–”_

“ _It's–”_

“ _No, it's not okay. It's not, really.”_

“ _No, it's not, right now. They're wrong and this shouldn't be happening, but we need to be fine and get up on feet again. It can be okay. It'll take time.”_

_Soonyoung stands on his toes to kiss Seokmin's forehead, then down to his nose, then under his eyes. “It's hard.”_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _It'll be really hard.”_

“ _Trust me. I'm always right.”_

“ _Modest about it, too. And I do. Trust you.”_

“ _Okay.” Seokmin breathes out. “It's, like you said, going to be a long, painful road.”_

“ _I_ know _."_

“ _Soonyoung?”_

“ _I'm fucking mad.”_

“ _I get it.”_

 

_When Soonyoung wakes up after two hours of sleep, he sees through blurred vision that Seokmin is already staring at him. He almost forgets the situation he's in. The boy in front of him could make him forget his own name._

“ _Hi.” He smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes the way it usually does._

“ _Good morning.”_

“ _Did you sleep well?”_

“ _No, not really.”_

_Seokmin brushes his fingers into Soonyoung's hair. “You're beautiful.”_

_Soonyoung yawns. “Bit random.”_

“ _I wanted to remind you.”_

 _Aside from the anger and disappointment he's currently filled with; Soonyoung realises that his heart holds too much love. It's the kind of thought that scares him, usually, but as he's lying next to Seokmin on a Wednesday morning he doesn't feel afraid of anything. Not of anyone who could say or do things to him and not about what could potentially happen that could affect his future possibilities. He's not scared of the world. Anxious, maybe, of what will happen. But not frightened. His mother has always told him to look forward and think one step ahead, but he finds himself wanting to look at what's right in front of him, right freaking_ now _._

_Seokmin continues, “We have to stick to our normal routines. Otherwise they win.” Soonyoung nods, and the corner of Seokmin's mouth twitches upwards. “When's your first class?”_

“ _Uh, afternoon.”_

“ _Me too.”_

_Soonyoung breathes and lives. “So let's stay here, for now.”_

“ _For now.” Seokmin closes off the centimetres between them, pulls the duvet over their upper bodies again and wraps his arms around Soonyoung's torso. “That sounds like a plan.” He grins whilst saying it, and the lightbulbs in the room hang their heads in shame._

 

(If you happen to be standing outside 21 Euclid Avenue, on a Friday autumn night, these are the things you will see and hear:

1\. The light in an apartment on the second floor is on.

2\. A boy, who presumably lives there, opens the window once, to let out streamers of paper.

And if you happen to go inside the building you will also see the boy leave the flat for about three minutes to discreetly walk down the corridor. He stops outside his neighbour's door for a few seconds, then returns as quickly as he left.

And, in a couple of minutes, if you happen to go up four flights of stairs to the second floor and go up to the door to the left you might just hear–

If you listen closely you could  _possibly_  hear–)

 

_On the sixth of April that year, Soonyoung kisses Seokmin and his lips taste of lemonade._

“ _I don't think I can do this anymore.” Seokmin looks to the ground. Shuffles his feet._

“ _What?”_

“ _I said, I don't–”_

“ _I heard what you said.”_

“ _Okay.”_

“  _I don't get what you_ mean _.”_

“ _I mean.” He pauses. “I don't think I can do this.” He gestures between them. “_ Us. _I– I can't do this when my entire life feels like it's, I don't know, crumbling before my eyes. I need a break.”_

“ _Oh.” Soonyoung sees the semblance of his heart and the cigarette of a cherry; burning away, turning to dust. “A break.”_

“ _From us. From life.”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _I said– It feels like nothing is happening and at the same time everything is happening and everything is going to Hell and there's nothing I can do anymore. I feel like there's a lump in my chest all the time, of sadness, anxiety, I'm not sure. I don't know what to do about that. I need space. I need time for myself.”_

“ _You promised– you said we could make it. Together. We_ would _.”_

“ _I know I did. I know, I know, I know.”_

“ _You said no matter how hard it would be–”_

“ _I did. But this has nothing to do with you. Or us, together. It has to do with me.” In his head, Soonyoung wills him to shut up. (Shut up.) “This is about myself. I need to be able to work out my own feelings.” (I thought we would be there for each other.) “It's been hard. Too hard.”_

_(It's been as hard for me, too.) “What're you going to do?”_

“ _Maybe I'll go back home and live with my parents for a while. Maybe I'll move abroad.” He cracks a smile, and Soonyoung's brain bursts. “Maybe I'll even drop out of uni. Maybe I'll remain playing football here, maybe. But it's getting hard to live in my own body.”_

“ _What about me?” His voice breaks on the last syllable._

_Pathetic._

“ _Soonyoung,” Seokmin says. “What about you?” He doesn't actually say that, instead stares harder at the ground. But it feels like it._

“ _Oh.” Soonyoung doesn't say another word._

“ _Soonyoung. Say something. Soonyoung, baby, please.”_

“ _Don't call me that,” he retorts._

_Seokmin looks heartbroken._

_(I felt needed in your arms.)_

_And for a second, Soonyoung thinks:_ Good.

_And after that second, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to live with himself again._

“ _I'm sorry,” Seokmin says._

_Every single word he knows disappears from his memory._

“ _I love you,” Seokmin says._

“ _I hate you,” Soonyoung says. He says this to the Lee Seokmin; the man who holds the stars and the galaxy in the palm of his hand. He says this to Lee Seokmin; who could walk into a room and everyone in it would sigh and rest their head on their cheek and the walls would fall down and the floor beneath him would kiss at his feet. He says this to Lee Seokmin; who taught him about passe-composé and how to have make-out sessions behind a convenience store at three in the morning without being caught and to not be scared and how to move on and not let the world push you down. He says this to Lee Seokmin; who he holds the most love for in the entire universe. He says this. He says this, without any venom in his words. He says this, and for a minute on the sixth of April, he doesn't even regret it._

“ _No, you don't.” Seokmin smiles. He puts his shoes on and leaves, shutting the door behind him._

 

The boy looks at the broken pieces of mirror on the desk.

 

_Soonyoung sees himself in the reflection of the mirror by the windowsill._

_He takes it and slams it to the ground._

 

And then the telephone rings.

He looks at the clock, and doesn't answer the phone.

_[RIIIIIIIIING!]_

He wishes there was a way to fill the regret in his heart with love again.

_[RIIIIIIIIING!]_

_[RIIIIIIIIING!]_

Eventually, at 9.03 P.M., it stops ringing. Eventually. Like every night.

Except this one is different. This is different. This is freedom from his past, from himself. This is the liberation he needs. He picks the phone up to leave a voicemail to the person who called. Before speaking, he reminds himself that he's alive.

He says, “Hi, it's me. Listen, I don't know how to start, but there are things I haven't said to you. There are things I wish I would've said, that I wish I had the– the courage to say. There are things I regret saying. There's a way I wish I could've been, so you wouldn't have left at like, my most vulnerable moment, but that me doesn't exist. It never would. I'm just  _me._ And I was bitter and sad and nervous and I said things I regret. Me– regret, yes. I wish I could move on, but I think these unspoken words will kill me. I often wonder how you could ever love someone as fucked up as me. And I often wonder  _why_. Yet the answer is so obvious. It's right in front of me, or, at least, it was.

“It's been months, and you still call at nine o'clock to try and talk to me. Do you think I've been ignoring you? I haven't. I think about you every day of my life, I really do. It's been… It's been hard for me too. Really hard. Do you think I really hate you? I don't think you do. I know you don't, but it kills me whenever I think of your face and when you left how you shut the door like it was fragile– Ah,  _shit_ , I'm rambling.” He almost laughs. “You used to ramble a lot.

“I… I wish you were here. It was always easier with you here. Everything was easier, better. I regret not saying this. Come back. Come back, come back, come back. I regret not telling you all of my emotions and thoughts when you were next to me. I didn't even say the positive things. Weird, right? Really weird. I think I thought they were too beautiful for someone like me. Someone who hurts people like you. People– people who make the world spin. Who make the walls in a room fall down. I guess, I regret not appreciating you properly. And, Seokmin, what I regret the most is– every damn  _second_ going by, every time you call me and every time I've never answered– is how I never got the chance to tell you how much I lo–”

_[BEEP.]_

_Voicemail time up. For recording a longer message with an additional fee of 1280 won, press 1. To record again, press 2. To delete your message, press 8._

Kwon Soonyoung leans back in his chair, sighs, and presses 8.

 

(–If you lean really close to the door on the left on the second floor, four flights of stairs up, in the apartment building on 21 Euclid Avenue you will hear a telephone ring loudly at exactly 9 p.m., for exactly three minutes until it finishes.

Ten minutes later, if you listen extra carefully; you will hear the boy who lives there put the phone down and quietly whisper  _I love you I love you I love you_ over and over again, to empty space.)

**Author's Note:**

> uh, yeah, 
> 
> sorry if this sux i never post anything i write lmao hmu with that constructive criticism!!
> 
> P.S. the title is Belle and Sebastian's album if you catch my drift


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